


Dear Shinsou Tomomi

by midotsuyu



Category: My Next Generation Academia
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Drugs, Gen, Hmmm uhhhh, I dont know the ships right now lmao theres some midotsuyu and kiribaku i guess, alcohol mention, because i dont wanna get in trouble, but yeah, im not gonna tag any of the canon bnha characters, joaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 05:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midotsuyu/pseuds/midotsuyu
Summary: Tomomi is only a little less than average. Anxiety owns his life, but he has therapy for that.He doesn't have therapy for what happens in the beginning of his Freshman Year of Highschool





	Dear Shinsou Tomomi

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is based on Dear Evan Hansen, quite obviously. Some things have, of course, been changed. Tomomi isn't a senior, he's a freshman (to match canon) and Aiko is adopted (This doesn't fit canon, Katashi's an only child and Aiko and Tomomi are together in canon so like you know) Each chapter will end after the song is over. It goes song by song. Anyways! I hope you enjoy my fic! I wrote this from 5 ish to 7!

Tomomi sighed. The laptop illuminated the room, it’s sickeningly bright white colour nearly blinding him. He had just woken up, stomach growling, hair a mess, clothes sticking to his body with sweat. Shower, later. Letter, now. He ran a hand through his soaking, wild hair.

He just wanted to get this over with.

Therapists orders. A letter a day to help cope with his anxiety. A confidence booster through praise and false hope. Mrs. Ito, of course, reassured him. Telling him that thinking in that negative connotation wasn’t the way to go about life. “Lighten up!” She said. “How”, he thought, of course not bothering to respond in such a fashion. All he’d really get was a “Life is better than you make it out to be, Tomomi-kun. Loosen up, _love yourself_.”

Might as well give it a shot, right?

His left arm was encased with silicon. Every so often a sharp, shooting pain ran through his vein. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case for him this morning. He looked at the bland cast, reminiscing the fall. How one accidental footing left him on the ground, tears pouring out of his eyes and a shaky grip on his left arm.

Ouch, ouch, _ouch_.

His breathing was erratic. His coworker almost immediately ran to his side, calling an ambulance.

God it was so embarrassing.

Enough stalling! He had to get this done, he was hungry. Sweaty. _Gross._ He couldn’t spend his time dwelling on the past. Time was money, and it surely didn’t come cheap.

_Click, click, click._

“Dear Shinsou Tomomi,” he read aloud, “Today is going to be an amazing day, and here’s why. Because today, all you have to do is just be yourself.” He pauses before continuing. A small smile began to form. Shaky, yet genuine.

“But also confident. That’s important. And interesting. Easy to talk to. Approachable. But mostly be yourself. That’s the big- that’s number one. Be yourself. Be true to yourself.”

The room was silent. Was that it? Would that be enough? Nervousness welled up inside his stomach, butterflies pounding against his abdomen (or was that just hunger? Guess he’d have to find out).

_Click, click, click._

“Also, though, don’t worry about whether your hands are going to get sweaty for no reason and you can’t make it stop no matter what you do,” That was a nervous tick of his, “because they’re not going to get sweaty, so I don’t know why you’re bringing it up, because it’s not going to happen, because you’re just, all you have to do is be yourself.” Nervous laughter. He’s not ready to start his _very first year_ of highschool. What if someone pushed him down? What if someone tackled him to rob him of his lunch money? His heart began racing, thoughts of unwarranted murder and harassment flew through his mind like a paper airplane. Deep breathes, Tomomi. Everything’s going to be just fine. Anxious as ever, he began to ramble. His mouth went 100 words per minute. It was quite impressive, actually; but he didn’t care to acknowledge his fast talking by the hopes of finishing the letter.

“I'm not even going to worry about it, though, because seriously it's not like- it's not going to be like that one time you had the perfect chance to introduce yourself to Bakugo Aiko at the jazz band concert last year, when you waited afterward to talk to her and tell her how good she was, and you were going to pretend to be super casual like you didn't even know her name, like she would introduce herself and you'd be like, "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Aika, you said your name was Aika?" And then she'd be like, "No, it's Aiko, I said Aiko." And then you'd be like, "Oh, see, I thought you said Aika because I don't even- I'm very busy with other stuff right now is the thing." But then you didn't you didn't even end up saying anything to her anyway, because you were scared your hands were sweaty- which they weren't that sweaty until you started worrying that they were sweaty, which made them sweaty, so you put them under the hand dryer in the bathroom, but then they were still sweaty, they were just very warm now, as well.”

Tomomi threw a hand over his face, sighing after he realized he was rambling. Quite a bit too. He heard footsteps far too late, shutting his laptop as his father barged into his room. A crisp 20 dollar bill was in between his middle and pointer finger. He looked down at him with intimidating, heterochromic eyes. He nearly fainted, why was he so unnecessarily frightening? He didn’t mean it, yes, but he still managed to make him sweat. His hands were definitely drenched now, gosh.

“So you just decided not to eat last night?”

That’s right, he hadn’t eaten last night. No wonder he was so hungry.

“Oh…I’m, um, I wasn’t hungry.”

Todoroki cocked his head to the side, smoothing out the wrinkled blanket. “You're a freshman in high school, Tomomi. You need to be able to order dinner for yourself if I'm at work. You can do it all online now. You don't have to talk to anyone on the phone. I know you don't like the phone.”

Tomomi shuddered at just the thought of having to answer the door, hand them the money, walk in, and recover from the mini heart attack he suffered just from the simple interaction. He dramatically clutched his heart, yelping “Okay, but see, that's not true actually,” an eye-roll from dad, “You have to talk to the delivery person when they come to the door. Then they have to make change. You have to stand there while it's silent and they're counting the change an-“

“See Tomomi? This is what you’re supposed to be working on! With Dr. Ito? Talking and engaging with people, not running away from them.”

Tomomi reciprocated the eye-roll. “You’re right, I’m going to get better. I promise.”

“Oh don’t worry, I know you are. I made an appointment with Dr. Ito this afternoon. I’ll pick you up afterschool.” He said, kissing the top of his son’s head.

Tomomi whimpered, shaking his head nervously. Another appointment? He was scheduled for one the week after! “But! I already have an appointment with her next week!”

“And I thought maybe you could use something a little sooner. Have you been writing those letters she wants you to do? The letters to yourself? The pep talks? ‘Dear Evan Hansen. This is going to be a good day and here's why.’ Have you been doing those?”

“I started one…I’ll finish it at school,” he said, putting up his laptop. The third? sigh of the morning. And it wasn’t even 6:30.

Todoroki gave him a blinding smile, leaning on his chair with his hand. “Those letters are important honey, they’re there to boost your confidence!” Ito said that, “Seize the day, pal.”

“Suuuure.”

Tomomi attempted to push past his father, heading down to make some toast with maybe some bacon. Depended if his mood improved by the time he was in the kitchen. Unlikely, but he was also hungry. Before he could make it to the door, he stopped him. He froze where he was, shoulders slumping.

“I don’t want another year of you sitting at home on that laptop of yours, claiming you have no friends.”

Okay.

His father seemed frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose and eyebrows creasing.

Christ.

“Can we try to have an optimistic outlook? Huh? Can we buck up just enough to see the world won’t fall apart?” He smiled one of his desperate _just listen to me for once in your life_ and definitely passive aggressive smiles. Not to be trusted, and Tomomi knew that. “Maybe this year we decide that we’re not giving up before we try! This year could make a new start!” his hands waved in the air dramatically, stopping to make a thinking gesture. As though a light bulb popped in his head, his finger went up in the air. “I know! You can walk around the school! Asking the other kids to sign your cast! Perfect icebreaker, right? Whaddya say?” Tomomi sighed, reluctantly shrugging. “Can I go now?” Todoroki’s shoulders slumped, nodding. Yeah, whatever.

Yet another father-son conversation, perfect for the scrapbook. Todoroki couldn’t help but feel as though he was walking on glass with his son. Everything he told him was wrong, he didn’t know what else to say to convince him that he mattered, that he too was important. He wouldn’t give up on his son yet.

He just needed some directing. A map, to show him the way to raise an angsty, anxious teenager. He fiddled with his thumbs. Throughout the 15 years he had Tomomi, he never really _knew_ how to deal with his emotions. Growing up, he never really knew how to deal with his own. It was hard, really. He never expected his toughest challenge to be having a son. Better to make up things as he went right? Give the best advice on a whim. He sighed.

“Does anybody have a map?” he pondered to no one.

Life at the Bakugo household wasn’t easy either. Eijirou stood over the table, simultaneously pouring orange juice and coffee into 2 different cups. Not a spill, he had years of practice. He looked over at his own son, who had been spacing out in his boxers and all black T-Shirt, despite needing to be wearing clothes for school. He sighed, beginning to wash up the dishes from breakfast.

“Katashi, it’s your first year of high school. You are not missing the first day.”

Their daughter laughed, scrolling through her phone. Katashi gave her a death glare. She wasn’t intimidated.

“Dad, I said I’d go tomorrow. Can I get some props for compromising?” he said, voice low and sounding more like a grumble than actual words. Eijirou was exasperated, looking over to his beloved husband, who was far too busy with his nose in his phone. He was 10/10 sure he was just as mature as Aiko was. “Katsuki, are you going to get involved??” he mumbled, head gesturing to their son. He was spacing out again. “Oui! What do you want me to say? He doesn’t listen to me, either. Look at him, he’s probably high.”

“He’s definitely high,” Aiko chuckled, not looking up from her phone.

“Fuck you!” he said, voice slurred.

“Fuck _you_!” she shouted, attempting to assert dominance.

“Language!” The two scoffed, “Aiko, now is not the time to pick on your brother. It’s not constructive, act your age.” Aiko scoffed again. “Are you kidding?”

“Besides, he’s not high,” he said, completely ignoring her. “Right, Katashi?” No response. “Katashi! Are you high? We talked about this, I don’t want you going to school high!”

“Perfect! Then I don’t have to go! Thanks mom!”

Katashi headed towards his room. More sleep, swell. Eijirou looked over at his husband, who was only snickering. He threw his hands in the air, following suit and slamming the bedroom door.

He had the perfect, tightly knit family. The perfect husband- “The interstates already jammed, goddammit!” The perfect two children- “Katashi, next time you finish the damn milk, let us know!” “DIE.” He heard from his son’s room, and the perfect amount of patience to deal with it. Or at least, the perfect amount of champagne to ignore it.

“Does anybody have a map?” he cried, landing flat on his bed and groaning.

Parenting was not the most exciting or enjoyable experience to him, of course. He loved his children, albeit, but the constant headaches he had endured throughout the time they shared was something he could live without. He too, needed direction. To bring back the peace of the Bakugo household. “Good luck” the back of his mind told him.

“Dad! I’m heading to school now,” Aiko shouted from the bottom of the staircase, “Love you!”

He grunted, burying his head into his pillow.

Hopefully he got points for trying.

He did, right?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tomomi and Katashi belong to twinktodoroki, Aiko belongs to me!


End file.
